


Sherlock

by KimchiKitty7



Series: The Caleb Chronicles [6]
Category: Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter - Laurell K. Hamilton
Genre: Caleb is a suspicious little shit, Caleb needs a hug, Character Study, Finally getting to plot like I promised, M/M, Mystery character - Freeform, Profanity, character reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:34:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23922424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KimchiKitty7/pseuds/KimchiKitty7
Summary: The ball is in his court, and Caleb is finally going to get some answers. When he's been trying his best to disappear, who has been watching him?
Series: The Caleb Chronicles [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1686178
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	Sherlock

**Author's Note:**

> This is where these stories are actually going to take a turn into the land of plot. Finally! Because there is so little description or personality for Caleb in the books, I took that as free reign to explore my own headcanon. Translation: it's gonna start getting weird, bitches. As always, comments are greatly appreciated. Please, if you're enjoying this series, let me know about it. Thanks guys!

The phone laid on the table, looking perfectly innocent in the dim light. Caleb paced back and forth beside it, turning the problem over in his mind. He had spent the full moon in his room at the Circus again. After the "care package" he had fully expected _something_ to happen. The door to burst open, and Merle to drag him to Anita's house. The food to be poisoned or drugged. To end up unconscious or dead. But nothing happened.

He spent the moon alone, eating the food provided and listening to the radio. And if he had gotten bored at some point and actually tried playing with the heavy-duty cat toys... Well, that was no one's business but his own. The fact that nothing out of the ordinary had happened left him with his current dilemma.

Obviously whoever had written the letter wanted him to contact them. They could have left the gifts anonymously, but had gone to the trouble of writing a letter and leaving him a cell phone. A cell phone that had a contact number included with it. In theory, since Caleb still hadn't worked up the courage to turn on the phone.

"Fuck it." He stormed over and snatched up the phone, pressing the button and waiting impatiently for it to power on. While it did, he took a moment to really look at it. This wasn't a cheap burner phone that could be picked up at any discount store. This was a top of the line, brand new smartphone. They could be setting him up, to track his location if he used it. But that didn't make sense. Because everyone knew where he was every second of the day. He was constantly surrounded by the master of the city's security. They could actually be trying to help him. That theory was gaining a little more weight, but again, why? Who would go out of their way to help him? Chimera had burned any faith he might have had in humanity out of him years ago, and what little was left had been destroyed by Anita Blake and her groupies. So why? Only one way to find out.

Caleb scrolled through the contacts on the phone. Someone had preloaded the numbers of several businesses in the riverfront: Guilty Pleasures, the Circus of the Damned, the Laughing Corpse, and Danse Macabre. All owned by the master of the city. Curioser and curioser. At the top of the list was an entry labeled Admirer. When he opened it, he didn't recognize the number, not that he'd really expected to. His finger hesitated over the screen. Calling could be dangerous. He could give away more than he intended to with his voice. Then again, so could his mysterious admirer.

Texting was a safer option. He could take his time with what he decided to give away, as well as interpreting whatever response he received. Opening the message screen, he decided to start with something neutral. Something safe. Whatever that meant anymore.

_Thank you for the gifts. It was very generous._

There. Polite enough to have pleased his parents back in the day. Cautious, but a start. He wasn't sure how long he'd have to wait for a response and was so startled when the phone dinged almost immediately that he fumbled for a second not to drop it.

**_Think nothing of it. It was my pleasure. I am pleased that you enjoyed the package._**

_I did. But I'm not sure why you left it._

_**But of course. Why would you trust anyone? I have been watching you for some time. I have seen the way you have been treated. I suppose it reminded me of someone. I was not able to help then, but I find myself in a position to do so now. If you will allow it.**_

_Okay. Let's be straight here. What do you get out of any of this?_

_**So tough, so strong. You have no idea how impressive you are, do you? I wish to assist you. If you wished to return the favor, I would not say no. I find myself trapped in a situation of my own making. However, if you wish only to flee the city, I will do what is in my power to assist you. No payment required.**_

**** _In my experience, things that sound too good to be true, usually are. What's the catch?_

_**There is none. I swear. I have lost control of my own situation. I intended only to help. And now I am trapped. But I have recognized the look in your eyes. The fear. The pain. I know it well. I cannot save myself, but perhaps I can save you.**_

Caleb leaned back in his chair, sighed, and rubbed his hands over his face. This guy sounded sincere. Well-spoken, but not pre-scripted. Hopeless. Whoever he was, he seemed to be just as screwed as Caleb was. But if he had more power at his disposal, he might just be worse off out of the two of them. At least Caleb was a nobody. Invisible. But someone who was more visible... They'd never make it out. And if he ran, and left someone else to suffer in his place, who would that make him? Not the man he wanted to see when he looked in the mirror. Not anymore.

_Alright sungbaeja, maybe we can help each other. I'm willing to trust you. Tentatively. Don't give me a reason to regret it._

_**I understand. Thank you. For offering your trust. I will do my best to be deserving of it.**_

_So how do we help both of us?_

_**Are you always so direct?**_

**** _Comes with the package._

_**Very well. Would you be willing to agree to meet in person? I would rather there was not a record of our discussion.**_

Caleb took a deep breath. Big decision. This could go wrong in so many ways. But his eomma had always told him to trust his instinct, and what did he really have to lose anymore?

_Alright. When and where, sungbaeja. Balls in your court._

_**There is a back hallway in the underground of the Circus of the Damned. At the end of it, there is a black and red door. Do you know the one I'm speaking of?**_

**** _Yeah. There are stairs back there, right?_

_**Yes. They lead to the caverns below. If you follow the hallway, third door on the left, there is a small sitting room. No one ever goes there. We will have absolute privacy. Meet me there, at three in the morning. It should give us at least an hour to talk, and neither of us will be missed.**_

**** _Okay. I'll be there._

_**Then I will see you tonight.**_

Okay. Three a.m. That meant he had ten hours before he found out what all of this was really about. More than enough time to make sure no one became suspicious of him. Time for an incredibly normal day.

Caleb was off the feeding schedule for the night, so he went to Guilty Pleasures to work his regular security shift. He made sure to speak to a few of his coworkers. Nothing of real interest, but enough to make sure that he had been seen, noticed. It was all a part of the long game. Blend in enough to be invisible, stand out enough to establish a presence. Steady. Good worker. Always on time, but never too early. Friendly, but not really close to anyone. Escort a few of the strippers to the diner after their shift was over, grab something to eat, make polite chit chat. Go back to the Circus afterward. Straight to his room, just like he did every night. Take a shower to wash off the stink of the club, change into casual clothes. Unofficial uniform of everyone who lived at the Circus.

When it was time, he slipped out of his room. Scanned the halls to avoid running into anyone who might ask where he was going. Why he was in an unused portion of the Circus. Find the door, down the stairs. Third door on the left. He moved silently. He'd had enough experience in the past that it was second nature. Ease the door open, slip inside, close it behind him. A light flicked on behind him and he spun around, instantly on guard.

"Thank you for coming, chaton. We have much to discuss."

"Son of a mother fucking bitch. Jean Claude?"

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the song Sherlock by Shinee. 
> 
> I do not speak French or Korean, so all translations are from google, and are as follows:
> 
> sungbaeja - admirer  
> eomma - mom  
> chaton - kitten
> 
> I really hope people are enjoying reading these as much as I'm enjoying writing them.


End file.
